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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23323324">25 Lives</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/encaton19/pseuds/wordsofaphoenix'>wordsofaphoenix (encaton19)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on a Poem, Immortality, Kinda, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Reincarnation, i don't know what applies and what doesn't this is a weird format, ish, technically, they do die a lot but it's all fine, uh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:14:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,434</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23323324</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/encaton19/pseuds/wordsofaphoenix</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"The very first time I remember you, you are blonde and don’t love me back."<br/>Based on the poem '25 Lives' by Tongari</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>25 Lives</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>First and foremost, the poem used in this (italics) is not mine. I just stumbled across it and was reminded so much of my favorite couple...the poem belongs to Tongari, I haven't been able to find them otherwise I'd link them.</p>
<p>And a huge thanks to the always amazing @strawberrydonutz, my lovely beta without whom this wouldn't exist. </p>
<p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>The very first time I remember you, you are blonde and don’t love me back.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin could feel it in his bones. He didn’t need a prophecy to tell him that his life was intertwined with Arthur’s. He could feel it in every breath he took, every movement Arthur made. Merlin would love this man until he no longer knew the meaning of the word. He was sure Arthur loved him back, though, in the way knights love each other, the way childhood friends are bonded. Merlin loved Arthur in the way a king and queen loved each other, all-consuming, a fire without end that could burn villages to the ground.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The next time you are brunette, and you do.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d waited a thousand years to get his king back. He’d wandered the Earth, twice over. Then been reincarnated and wandered it again. He’d known Arthur when he saw him, recognized his heart before he recognized his face. And that heart was accompanied by a head of dark hair, a shock after the rich golden hues that had plagued his dreams all these years. But Merlin </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> that this was his Arthur. He had the same bright blue eyes that managed to be more piercing with the dark locks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was this hair that Merlin had memorized in a new way. He had watched it twine around his fingers when he buried his hand in Arthur’s hair. Had seen it splayed out on the pillow when Merlin pressed him into the mattress. For this Arthur loved him, nearly equal. Arthur could never beat the love Merlin had for him, though he may try to argue. Merlin has waited lifetimes for this, to have Arthur back and be able to love him, no matter the form. That it was in this form was just a bonus. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>After a while I give up trying to guess if the colour of your hair means anything. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>because even if you don’t exist, I am always in love with you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d both died that time. Arthur went first and Merlin was close behind, once again ready to follow his king anywhere. But Arthur stayed dead. Merlin didn’t. He came back and knew without a doubt that this would be a life without Arthur. He didn’t feel the pull. So he’d wandered again, settled near the lake despite knowing Arthur wouldn’t come. And waited until it was his time to go once again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I remember most fondly those lifetimes where we get to grow up together,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>when you share your secrets and sorrows and hiding places with me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur had found him this time. Merlin had known, of course, in the way he always does, no matter his age. But Arthur had come across him this time. They were eight and inseparable in the way all friends are at that age. Arthur showed him his secret ‘castle’ in the forest behind his house and Merlin would share his dreams, that Arthur was a king, that Merlin had magic, that they lived in a world with trolls and terrible creatures. Through thick and thin they loved each other, more deeply than kids should know how.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I love how you play along with my bad ideas,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>before you grow up and realize they are bad ideas.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(And in our times together I have many bad ideas.)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite the thousands of years under his belt, Merlin was still human and Arthur still made him act a fool. No matter who Arthur was, he’d stress the first syllable of Merlin’s name, always in exasperation, and complain endlessly, but he’d follow Merlin to the ends of the earth. It was familiar and sometimes concerning. Merlin knew some of his ideas were bad, he just didn’t often care. He expected Arthur to have more sense, as he was a year older. But no, the blond (and he was blond this time) would never let him live it down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>When we meet as adults you’re always much more discerning. I don’t blame you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was harder to meet as adults. When Arthur was already hardened by his father it was more difficult to gain his friendship, let alone his trust. But time and time again, Merlin managed. He assumed it was because Arthur could feel the bond in the same way Merlin could, just not as strongly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yet, always, you forgive me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There have been very few lifetimes where Arthur remembered Camelot. It was always inside Merlin, as a dream or a memory, he never fully forgot. Arthur did, but the times in which he remembered were some of Merlin’s favorite. The inside jokes he could remember, the endless teasing, picking up as if the last thousands of years had never happened. Merlin apologized, time and time again, for keeping his magic a secret, letting Arthur die, not trying hard enough. Arthur would cuff him upside the head, tug him in closer and never let go. Merlin knew it was his way of saying Merlin had nothing to apologize for.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As if you understand what’s going on, and you’re making up for</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>all the lifetimes in which one of us doesn’t exist,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>and the ones where we just, barely, never meet.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Passing Arthur on the street is one of the worst lives. Maybe their shoulders brush or maybe they get on two different tube carriages. It’s always too close but ever close enough that they meet. Try as Merlin does, sometimes it just doesn’t work out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I hate those. I prefer the ones in which you kill me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It only happened once. It was something Merlin didn’t care to dwell on. When you live so long you learn to let go of the past.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But when all’s said and done, I’d surrender to you in other ways.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They loved each other like this more times than not. Lying in bed together, tangled in an embrace, whispering promises in the scant air between them. Forehead kisses and dancing in the kitchen while making breakfast. The domesticity never failed to set Merlin ablaze. He was the most powerful warlock ever, and yet he skids on the tile floors in socked feet in an effort to escape the flour being tossed at him. It was soft, welcoming, it felt like home, time and time again. And if the most powerful warlock ended up bent over the counter with Arthur pressed against him at every point until he became an incoherent mess, well no one would know but them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Even though each time, I know I’ll see you again, I always wonder</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>is this the last time?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin hated the uncertainty that came with all of this. He hated not knowing what would be next, who he’d be, who Arthur would be. Who they’d be to each other. He’d grown to accept it, to acknowledge that this is how normal humans live, with the uncertainty.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And what if you’re perfectly happy</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>without me?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>These were lives that haunted Merlin. Not the ones in which he’d lived without Arthur or the ones where they just almost met. The ones where he’d finally found the man and Arthur was content to hardly deliver a second glance. When Arthur was already happily married and maybe had children. A good life, a life without Merlin. They weren’t always tied at the hip. It seemed Arthur didn’t always feel the pull that kept Merlin going. Merlin didn’t claim to know how the universe worked, though he was tightly tied to it. There were times they were nothing but coworkers, acquaintances that spoke about the weather. These were rare, rarer than the ones in which one of them was killed, but they still sometimes kept Merlin awake at night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah, but I don’t blame you; I’ll never burn as brilliantly as you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s only fair that I should be the one to chase you</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>until I find the one where you’ll return to me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took thousands of years more, countless lifetimes where they’d met and loved in every possible way, jumping through time and across ages. It had taken lifetimes of fighting and reminiscing and loving each other in every possible way. The world was better, not fully perfect, it would never be perfect, but it was good. And they were done. This time when they died, together and peaceful, it was the end. There was no reincarnation, no more lifetimes, no more searching. Merlin got to fully rest for the first time in a millennium, his king—his love—at his side, surrounded by their knights. Peace at last.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Let me know if there's any warnings that should be put, I wasn't sure x</p>
<p>I can be found at @wordsofaphoenix on Tumblr, come say hi :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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